Addict
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: John's not an addict. He just needs a way to cope. *pre-series, trigger warning: physical abuse of a child, alcoholic!John*
_**Author's Note:**_ _Just an exploration of what might've been. Set pre-series. Written for a prompt where John is a high functioning alcoholic and one night after drinking too much, he hits Sam._ _ **Trigger warning: physical abuse of a child. If this bothers you, do not read.**_

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" _Do what I say_

 _And I'll make you okay_

 _And drive them away_

 _The images stuck in your head."_

— _Elliot Smith, "Between the Bars"_

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Drinking helps fill the void left behind by a blond haired, blue eyed, beautiful, kind woman who took John by the hand and promised him a home and a life filled with love. She'd been his everything—his wife, the mother of his children—but she died so many years ago and there's nothing but the gaping hole in his heart and the warm buzz that Jack Daniels gives him. Drinking makes her face fuzzy in his mind and muffles her voice as she calls out to him in the middle of his nightmares. But even the best booze can't erase her completely, but John still tries.

Anything to give him just one moment of respite from her ghost haunting his memories.

Dean knows better than to speak of her and Sam doesn't have any memories of her to begin with, so they all move on with their lives, a patched up family that's held together with hunts and frozen dinners. All things considered, his boys are pretty well adjusted and sometimes, John wonders how his boys aren't totally fucked up with all the trauma they've experienced in their short lives. The boys go to school and then they study hunting and they're both quick learners, his boys, and John can't help but feel a bit proud.

And John drinks because that's all he can do. Never while he hunts—sure, he'll have a few sips of beer right before, but he's always in control before a hunt—and his boys know never to question his drinking. After all, John doesn't have a problem with alcohol.

But as the years go by, and the memories get harder to deal with, and Mary's voice haunts his dreams, John drinks more. He crawls into the bottom of a bottle just try and get some rest and Dean is smart, Dean knows to keep Sam away when he gets like this, knows that John can't control himself when he gets like this.

John isn't an addict; he just needs a way to cope.

He's a hunter and a good father. He teaches his boys how to survive in this world full of monsters and creatures that go bump in the night. He loves Sam and Dean fiercely and he's willing to die for them. But sometimes, he has his moments—a barbed comment here, a sarcastic remark there—when all he wants is to be alone. The boys are pieces of Mary and Sam, especially, he's just so much like her.

It hurts to look at Sam sometimes, to hear him speak, for all he sees is her and her defiant spirit that made him fall for her.

Sam, always asking so many damn questions. _Why don't we ever talk about Mom? Why can't we ever stay in school? Why can't I have friends over? Why? Why?_

 _Why?_

And as Sam grows up, he begins to talk back. He's different than Dean, more book smart, more willing to challenge his orders. Sam never listens, never obeys without a fight. Every order has to follow with an explanation. Every decision is questioned repeatedly, _why, why, why?_

And John loves both of his sons, really, but some days he loves Dean just a little bit more. Dean never questions. Dean always listens. If John says jump, Dean will say, "how high?" If he asks Sam that . . . _why, Dad?_

John is so sick of hearing that word.

So John drinks, Dean follows orders and Sam is kept out of his sight.

Until, he's not and Sam is there and he's asking questions, so many questions, and John doesn't have the patience for this. So he drinks and really, he can stop anytime he wants, but why should he stop when the alcohol numbs him to the world? But Sam is there and he's asking about why they can't be normal, why they can't have fun, why can't they—

And John hears nothing but his heartbeat thudding in his ears and the room darkens and he just wants everything to stop. He wants to be alone. He doesn't want to look into Sam's eyes and see Mary's disappointed gaze staring back, her voice echoing, _Why John, why?_

It needs to stop.

When the world comes back, Sam is crying, his cheek is red, already starting to bruise in the perfect impression of John's fist. That when it sinks in—he's hit his son. Mary's pride and joy is on the floor, looking horrified at him, like he's the monster and not the hunter.

 _Dad, why?_

 _John, why? Why would you do that?_

He needs another drink. Needs to drown himself in the burning liquid and maybe, just maybe, he'll escape her memory—

But then Dean is there and he's taking care of his brother, whisking him away, and John is alone, left to his bottle. Dean is the father here and John is the predator. Dean is the protector and that's why Sam looks to him first during hunts. He loves Dean, respects him and John is just . . . there.

And now, he's hit his son and this is the end for Sam and him, he knows. Somehow, deep down, he knows no amount of words will ever fix things between them. He never wanted to hit Sam—it was a reflex really—but that's no excuse. And John is just so damn tired. He doesn't even have the energy to try to fix things.

So, John does what he always does, and drinks.

Being an addict is the only way he can survive. Maybe one day, his boys will understand that and forgive him for it. But if not, there's always the welcoming embrace of Jack Daniels to welcome him home.

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 _ **Author's Note:**_ _If you have a moment, please let me know what you think. This is something different from what I usually write so I'd be interested in feedback. Thanks!_


End file.
